


High Stakes

by CreamcheeseBagel



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Canon-Typical Violence, Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, F/F, Getting Back Together, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Break Up, Smoking, Suicide Attempt, Superpowers, Swearing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22507183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreamcheeseBagel/pseuds/CreamcheeseBagel
Summary: Smoking kills but silver hurts more.Craig was many things in life his; a college dropout, an adopted son, a broken heart, a young man who could shoot lazers from his eyes.Craig returns to South Park, scarred and determined, hopeful to find the man plaguing his dreams.He finds the town split, fighting for survival.Hunted by vampires and humans alike, Craig must save Tweek before his time runs out.Vampire AU.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Dream Team

**Author's Note:**

> Smoking kills but silver hurts more. Legit my favourite line so far. If you like Vampires and love South Park give this a read. 
> 
> Also there will be strong language and swearing, references to suicide attempts and alot of blood and violence. If that's not your cup of tea, please don't read.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig returns to South Park and meets the dream team, and a vampire.

Craig was many things in life his; a college dropout, an adopted son, a broken heart, a young man who could shoot lazers from his eyes.

Each and every part of himself was like a puzzle piece, he would find pieces of himself along the way and slot them into place, no matter how obscure the image was becoming.

He no longer feared returning to South Park, or his adopted family. He still didn’t know quite what role he played in the lives of those around him, but the thought didn’t scare him as much as it once had.

At nineteen he found himself putting his education on the backburner, returning less than triumphant to the backwater town.

Craig sat in a waiting room of Hell’s Pass Hospital tracing idle patterns in the grimy window pane. Snow capped mountains and far away curses were nothing new to him, yet he continued to watch the town lazily as the sky darkened overhead. He would join the town soon. For now Craig sat bored and petulant, his bandaged wrists itchy beneath the tight gauze. He huffed air from his nose and counted no less than ten crucifixes dotted around the room.

He had an hour to kill before he was meant to return to his parents house. They had warned him to return before the moon was high. He’d scoffed at that. Cryptic bastards.

‘Craig Tucker?’ a skittish nurse called, twitching as she beckoned him to the reception desk. He couldn’t bare to look at the woman as he signed the form and shoved the prescribed medication deep in his pocket.

‘Thanks,’ he grumbled, stretching and popping his long limbs. He no longer felt the maddening urge to cry, or shout, he just felt resigned.

Coming back to South Park was jarring, a sour taste stuck in his throat, but he knew he had to return. Sleepless nights gnawed at him, as he tossed wildly in his dorm room, and when he did dream he saw a lost love calling to him.

He had slit his wrists, bandaged himself and returned to South Park within the week.

The wounds were healing, green and flaky.

Craig had made sure to redeem his prescription the same evening he returned, knowing full well he could not return home without them.

Craig balled his fists, sighing into the pull of stitches and flare of pain. He counted the seconds until the pain became a dull throb and shuffled quickly to the waiting room door.

‘Be safe!’ the nurse called, tugging at a small crucifix necklace. She wound the silver until her fingers grew white with lack of blood.

Craig turned back, irritated. ‘What kind of sick joke is that?’

The nurse balked and Craig stomped back.

‘It’s not safe at night.’

‘No shit,’ Craig bit back. The nurse shook her head quickly, one hand garrotting her fingers against the necklace. ‘It’s South Park'.

‘You must have been away a long time,’ the nurse whispered. ‘Do you smoke?’

Craig nodded his head, straining to keep up with the rambled conversation. He plucked a cheap plastic lighter from his jeans and shook it. The nurse moved quick, snatching the lighter. Craig opened his mouth to retort, stared dumbly at the silver zippo lighter now in his palm, and closed his mouth.

‘Smoking kills but silver hurts more’.

Stumbling backwards, out of his depth, Craig flipped the woman off from inside his pocket and fled.

He stepped into the hallway and schooled his face, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over his fingertips. A further frazzled nurse whizzed down the stretch of corridor with barely a glance, her brunette hair scraped into a haphazard bun.

A light flickered overhead, dead insects rolling in the fixture. Craig turned his gaze away and sloped off in the opposite direction. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. He didn’t want to return home just yet.

He walked and walked. Old men and women, with more voice than teeth ambled about. Teenagers and young adults lounged in overcrowded wards stinking of vomit and urine. Craig escaped the decay, finding himself in an outside area. He couldn’t exactly call the area a garden with its gnarled trees and broken benches, but it was large and open, offering an expanse of sky he could watch. Craig pulled his hood low over his face and collapsed on a bench, he then squashed his face on a fist and watched the darkening sky lovingly.

Occasionally the odd voice, or desperate smoker, interrupted him.

However it was the shuddery gasp that drew Craig from the heavens. The noise permeated his calm.

He knew that noise, he could never forget that jittery tic. Heart hammering, lungs tightening, he surveyed the area with his mask of nonchalance.

There was little light but the stars and Craig squinted harder, his eyes pinpricks of ice. As his vision lightened he heard the choked off squawk and found himself standing, hand straining against the traded lighter.  
He felt watched in the gloom. The hairs on his arms stood. He stared defiantly, snapping his head to everything he could see amongst the filter of blue. Yet he couldn’t find another living soul. He strained his ears. He knew he wasn’t mad, not just yet at least.

‘Who’s there?’ he shouted, wrists beginning to ache.

A chill overtook him and Craig shuddered. He spun round, chest heaving.

Craig was alone, again, except for a single gray rat that watched with sharp beady eyes. 

* * *

Craig wrinkled his nose and stomped outside the hospital doors. The moon shone bright.

Without a second thought he fished a crumpled roll up from his back pocket and lit it. He inhaled sharply, his head heavy with nicotine. He played with the scuffed lighter, examining the silver body and cross carved into the lid.

‘Fucking weirdo!’ he grumbled, tossing the whole cigarette away.

‘Watch it. Arsehole!’

Craig jumped at the shout, spun round to offer an insincere apology and stopped dead in the face of Ike Broflovski. The younger Canadian scowled back, years younger at twelve but already boasting an inch taller than Craig himself.

If he were being honest, the teenager unnerved Craig with his mop of black hair, shaved close at the sides, and large black eyes. He seemed to loom, radiating malice.

‘You’re that Tucker kid. The fuck you doing back here?’

Craig bristled. ‘Mother never teach you manners?’

Ike drew back, eyes steely. Craig moved back, ready to fight or flee at a moments notice.

‘Ike!’ a voice snapped, effectively breaking the tension. Ike turned to the voice, shrinking to Craig’s shoulder. ‘Ike! You dead piece of shit. Don’t run off'.

Craig blinked owlishly at the smaller boy, too shocked to even hide his confusion. Ike smiled upwards, smug.

Kyle Broflovski burst from the doors of Hell's Pass, face pinched with anger. His familiar green hat bobbed angrily as he ran over, panting hard.

‘Jesus, Ike! You can’t run off. _They’ll_ kill you!'

Ike rolled his eyes and patted his brothers back.

  
‘I found your friend,’ Ike said and slung an arm over Kyle’s shoulder. His brothers hat came up to Ike’s chest. ‘Moping outside, all _alone_ ’.

‘Craig?’ Kyle gasped, his eyes invasive on Craig. ‘You’re back? You can’t be back’.

Craig squared up then, crowding Kyle. He had been back hours and it felt as though nothing had changed.

‘Meaning?’

Kyle jumped away, all but hiding behind his taller sibling. ‘Uh, you left pretty suddenly. You know, after-,’

Craig cocked his head, daring the man to elaborate.

‘Anyway!’ Kyle backpedalled. ‘It’s good to see you again! Are you going home? We can drop you home...you shouldn’t go alone'.

Ike quirked a brow, daring Craig to agree.

‘Was gonna go hang out somewhere before going back'.

Kyle worked his bottom lips between his teeth, Ike staring hard at him. ‘We’ll get you someplace safe,’ Kyle said and Ike threw his arms up with a cry. ‘The more the merrier’.

The trio lapsed into silence as Kyle waved down a harshly spray-painted minivan turning into the carpark. It looked like Mecha-Streisand had taken a royal silver dump and gifted it wheels. Additional lights had been grafted onto the roof and bumpers, and what looked to be bible verses slapped onto the rims as stickers.

Craig squinted at the vehicle, unimpressed, spied Stan waving at him from the drivers side and sighed hard enough to rival Ike.

‘I’m not getting in that!’ Craig said, deadpan.

‘Me neither,’ Ike laughed, elbowing Craig aside. The Canadian smiled lazily at him before drawing his hood up and slinking off into the night.

‘I have no clue what’s going on. Why are you two here?’ Craig asked trying for aloof. If he were honest he had been expecting to hike home, suffer through dinner, and then suffer through Token and Clyde swooping in on him as soon as he caved and texted them.

Kyle looked as thought he wanted to strangle Ike and vanish.

Stan shrugged, gaze slightly glassy. ‘We were looking for a friend. Guess we found you instead’.

Craig bit his tongue and obediently slid into a battered minivan after Kyle. He pointedly ignored the crucifixes drilled into the walls; if Kyle could make himself at home in the mutant church on wheels so could he.

‘Don’t mind the decor,’ Kyle spoke. Craig suppressed a flinch, not having expected the redhead to acknowledge that topic. ‘We’ll explain when we get you back safely. Anyway. It’s good to see you. Sorry about Ike. Little bastards going through some things right now...’.

Craig scuffed his trainers against a toolbox, mentally debating if he’d be ritualistically murdered if he were outright rude.

‘How long you been back?’ Stan shouted over the rumble of the engine. ‘Clyde and Token have been so pissy lately. Worried you’ll turn up _uninvited_.’ Kyle punched Stan’s arm immediately, shaking his head.

‘What Stan means , Craig. Well. He means the last couple of months South Parks been kinda fucked. Like more fucked than usual. We were worried you’d come back before we could sort it out'.

Craig hunched down in the backseat. ‘Sort what exactly?’

‘We'll explain soon. I promise’.

Stan accelerated. 

* * *

  
‘Welcome to Tegridy Farms,’ Stan sung, his frown not matching the tone. ‘Shithole farm and our base of operations.’

‘Weren’t you meant to take me home?’ Craig snapped, not wanting to be dragged into this particular group’s craziness again.

‘Technically we agreed to take you to the safest residence,’ Kyle clarified as Stan expertedly parked in a garage welded to the barn. Kyle turned in his seat facing Craig. ‘Tegridy Farms is the safest place you could be right now. Trust us'.

Craig exited the van quickly. The garage stretched backwards, filled with an array of modified vehicles.

‘I’m not taking a step further until you tell me what’s going on,’ Craig mentally counted to ten. ‘Why were you at the hospital? And why is everyone being weirder than usual? Where’s Clyde?’

Kyle leaned against the van, tugging nervously on his hat. ‘It’s alot to take in'.

‘Cut the crap or I walk. If you want me to be _safe_ so badly, talk'.

Stan looped his arm through Kyle’s and smiled coyly. ‘Gonna sound batshit crazy but dude you’ve gotta hear us out, okay?’

Craig grunted.

‘Okay, cool!’ Stan began rubbing his free hand along Kyle’s arm. Craig looked away from the naked comfort. ‘This is our Man Van!’ Stan emphasised. ‘Stupid name. I know. Drunken idea. But only _humans_ can sit inside cause of all the religious crap inside’.

Kyle rolled his eyes. ‘Look, Craig. We visit the hospital every night hoping to find..uh, hoping to find Kenny. Clyde and Token and a whole bunch of others are safe for now. But we’ve lost so many recently...’.

Craig turned back, blinking slowly against the budding pain behind his eyes. ‘The fuck is going on in this shithole?’

‘Vampires,’ Stan sighed nonchantly. ‘No, no. Cross my heart, dude. Legit the town is full of vampires’.

Craig laughed dryly. ‘Fuck. You’.

Kyle and Stan shared a look.

‘Craig. You’ve seen the crucifixes everywhere’.

‘If _he_ put you up to this. I swear'.

Kyle pinched his nose. ‘Just come inside and see. If you still wanna leave after, I’ll ask Ike to walk you home'.

Craig narrowed his eyes, now following the duo through a heavy duty door. He gasped loudly before he could snatch the awe away. He wasn’t now just standing in a dilapidated barn as expected but a genuine secret lair.

Iron framework secured the interior, with a staircase leading upwards to living quarters. Small open rooms on the ground floor greeted him where fences once swung. The inside was open planned with the wall adjacent to the garage hosting multiple screens and monitors, desks crammed with laptops and workstations and tool racks.  
The rooms across held an array of occupations, from makeshift hospital beds to a claustrophobic kitchen. Only one room of the five, the furthest into the barn, had a thick iron door, the four other rooms had empty doorways.

Craig took in the rooms, the towering heights he wouldn’t have imagined from outside. Each and every nook was alive with purpose. Only the upstairs looked communal from what he could spy.

‘There’s more below,’ Stan admitted, looking both proud and hesitant. ‘But that’s more for storage and an emergency exit. Jimmy and Token are looking to expand further, but we’ve got another location if this is compromised’.

Craig sunk into a beanbag in the middle of the barn, overwhelmed.

Kyle perched on a dining room table that somehow didn’t look out of place amongst the sheer volume of things and possessions.

Stan made himself busy at a workstation.

‘I know this is a lot to take in,’ Kyle muttered, apologetic.

‘No shit. Dude. You’ve brought me to the Batbarn’.

Stan chuckled from behind a mountain of gadgets.

  
Kyle played with the hem of his parka. ‘A few months ago livestock went missing. No big deal. Right? But then people started going missing’. He sighed heavily and Craig leant forward intrigued. ‘Also not that unusual around here. Shits off the charts’.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, as though it pained him to even discuss the town. ‘And now, some of those missing people have come back'.

‘Wait. You actually mean zombies right?'

‘Vampires'. Kyle shuddered, seeming to shrink into his parka. ‘It’s taken more proper adults than kids. We’ve fortified the farmhouse for the girls. But there’s pockets of resistance throughout South Park'.

Craig laughed, tired and empty. Kyle frowned and Craig laughed harder, harsher.

‘I don’t want to believe you. But I do’.

Kyle looked far off, a sad smile on his face. ‘They got Ike near the beginning’.

Craig blanched.

‘He’s a good kid. Got turned saving me'. Kyle’s hands trembled. ‘But he helps us. Only feeds on the cows that remain. Anyone that even thinks about hurting him can get the fuck out’.

Stan hopped up from a workbench and dropped a satchel at Craig’s feet. ‘Basic weaponry and a few gadgets and communication devices. But yeah. This is my farm now and it's our rules,’ he pointed between himself and Kyle, ‘we’re the dream team who’s going sort this shit out. Well us and everyone else with us'.

Craig nodded, already rifling through the satchel. Inside he found an array of wooden stakes and silver tent pegs, technical gadgets he couldn’t begin to comprehend and bottles of water and salt.

‘Holy water?’

‘Father Maxi,’ Stan explained. ‘He’s with Jesus. Shacked up at the church. Big Gay Al and some other adults are there too. We stay away unless the stocks running low'.

Craig stood up, needing to move about. He spied Ike lurking around the locked iron door, watching him with a frown.

‘What started this?’

Kyle bit a bloody groove into his lip. Ike peeled open the iron door and slunk inside. The door locked with a clunk.

‘That fat fucking son of a bitch' Kyle growled, eyes like wildfire. ‘Cartman'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shouts into the void* where is Kenny? What's with the creepy rat? Ike? Cartman


	2. Bright Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I shoot lazers from my eyes' Craig.

Craig lounged on the porch of the Tegridy Farmhouse, his fingers idly picked at the peeling paintwork of the steps. The farm looked as it had years ago, world weary and isolated.

It sat snugly in the middle of various fields, many now sporting watch towers genuisly crafted from an amalgamation of rubbish. Only one small field of marijuana crops survived, nestled behind the farmhouse for the remaining cows to graze upon.

Craig could see the various towers manned by faces he couldn’t recognise.

He briefly wondered if his family were safe, holed away for the night. Or if they had turned and were waiting for him to return, unaware and easy prey.

He was even less eager to return home now.

‘They’ll be back soon,’ Kyle said from his perch on the railings. He looked like a child swamped in the bulletproof vest and multiple belts looped around his chest and hips.

Craig thought he looked like a D&D character come to life, the first and shittiest character sheet.

‘I don’t care,’ Craig lied, laying back on the porch. ‘Just don't see why you cant take me to Token’s.’

Kyle huffed, eerily similar to his late mother. ‘Getting to the mansion is a waste of resources at night. We’re regrouping in a few days. Not like you kept in touch anyway'.

Craig flipped him off with both hands.

‘You’re a dick, Broflovski.’

‘Dude, stop bitching already. The girls will be back soon'.

‘You really underestimate how little I care, _dude_.’

Grumbling, Kyle pushed himself off the railings and stalked off.

Craig sat up, watching him with a frown. He inhaled deeply and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. Blinking he watched Kyle punch in a code to a side door and slip into the barn; his blue eyes shone like lightning strikes in a storm.

It was as though a light had been switched on; he could see the farm clearly now. He spied Stan snapping an ancient flip-phone shut before sneaking off into the garage.

Craig thought his friend looked agitated amongst the blue filter, his moves sluggish and face stony.

Ike materialised into view as Stan disappeared. Black orbs stared back, endless, and Craig jumped at having been caught. Ike wiped his mouth, smearing the cows blood across his cheeks.

‘You’ve got good eyesight.’ Ike stood on the porch as though summoned.

Craig swallowed bile, urging his stomach to settle. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the stark crimson slashes across Ike’s ashen face.

‘I can smell your fear,’ Ike sighed, pulling his shirt up to scrub roughly at his face. ‘Kyle and Stan make sure no one bothers me. But I know I scare them. You spying?’.

‘You don't exactly help yourself,’ Craig scoffed. ‘And no. I’m just long-sighted alright?’ he snapped, consciously quashing the thrum behind his eyes.

He narrowed his eyes, they no longer burned, the small release having helped. However his vision had returned to normal.

‘What’s with the freaky glowing eyes then?’ Ike pushed, a devilish smile.

‘I shoot lazers from my eyes.’

Ike’s jaw dropped in childish delight. ‘Woah. That’s super cool!’

‘Eh,’ Craig rubbed his neck, sheepish.

‘Wish I had an ultimate ability like that. Pew pew!’

‘You’re a fucking vampire.’

Ike shrugged dramatically. ‘Yeah well, doesn’t stop Kyle bossing me around. He still makes me go to bed _early_.’

Getting to his feet, Craig plodded to the barn with Ike in tow. The pair bickered about superpowers and vampires for a good hour before Kyle swept on them like an angry mother hen. 


	3. Of Rats and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are never cut and dry for the kids.

Craig woke feeling rested. He’d slept deeply, not remembering his dream. He rolled over on the mattress and stuck his naked arm through the balusters of the loft conversion.

Sleepily he watched lights come to life downstairs, could smell coffee and hear Stan tinkering. He pulled himself upwards and slung his hoodie on; he would redress his wrists in the privacy of the bathroom later.

For now he leaned against the high handrail and watched Stan like a hawk. The man scuttled around the barn with a far off look. He moved and worked mechanically. Occasionally Stan would text quickly before tucking the phone away into his boots.

Kyle snored softly on a camp bed tucked under a slope in the roof, a hand curled around the blanket of the cot beside his.

Aside from having cut himself off from his friends and coming home with his tail between his legs, to a town full of vampires no less, something felt incredibly wrong. Craig couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His gut told him to be careful.

‘Morning,’ Kyle yawned rolling over both cots to stand. The curls of his red mop sprung out wildly. ‘How'd you sleep?’ he yawned again, bare feet already slapping down the staircase. 

Craig followed, grumbling that he’d slept fine.

Kyle drifted to peck Stan on the cheek and the man seemed to come alive from a trance. Stan scrubbed his eyes and took Kyle into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Craig opened his mouth. ‘Get a room,’ a shrill voice cooed. Craig shut his mouth, brain working hard.

Heidi winked at him. Before Craig could even think of a retort Heidi, Bebe and their leader Wendy were before him.

‘Uh. Hey,’ Craig huffed.

‘Good to have you back,’ Wendy said matter of factly. She stood as tall as his stomach, a rifle glued to her back.  
Craig thought she looked beautiful in her pink camouflage jumpsuit with signature long hair tucked under a muddied beret. He’d never given Wendy much thought before, but he appreciated a strong woman.

‘How’re you doing? Bet this is a shock.’

‘Beats essays,’ Craig shrugged, ignoring Kyle’s pointed look.

‘Once this is over we can go back to our lives,’ Kyle proclaimed moving over to welcome the trio of tired shooters. ‘Stan and I are thinking road trip before university’.

Wendy nodded along as Kyle began to check over the group’s scrapes and bruises.

Stan stood stock still, watching with a faraway look.

Craig had once dreamed of hitting the road with Tweek at his side, camping under the stars. Tweek had soon trampled on the idea, squawking that he was holding Craig back. He hated that he hadn’t fought harder for Tweek, shown him his worth as his own person.

‘Token’s excited to hear you’re back. In his own way. Clyde about pissed himself,’ Heidi sneered around a tray of sandwiches. ‘Maybe next time, keep in contact?' She shouldered past him, feeding her team.   
Finding himself without an offering, and on the fringe of the close-knit group, Craig escaped into the makeshift kitchen.

Yellowing notes littered the cupboards, old recipes and notes plastered like wallpaper. He turned to the fridge and began to read from a list of names.  
Craig’s hands shook as he snatched the list, his eyes boring into the names. 

Kenny: ~~MIA~~ ?  
Butters: Blood Bag  
Karen: **Turned**   
Tweek: ~~MIA~~ **Turned**

Countless names and statuses bore back at him, hastily scrawled and final. Many names were struck out completely, dead and buried.The fridge door was hidden behind masses of photographs, pictures of loved ones, annotated localised maps.

‘ _Tweek_ ,’ Craig breathed, stomach sinking. He collapsed against the sink, heaving. He couldn’t imagine his Tweek succumbing to blood lust, hunting his friends. Craig pushed two fingers into a bandaged wrist, feeling the burn. Tweek hadn’t been his for years.

He himself had been too much of a coward to even ask if he were safe, too pig-headed to admit Tweek was the first person he’d thought about at Hell's Pass. The man haunted his recent dreams and he was still too selfish, afraid, to ask a simple question.

Agitated and spiteful he punched the fridge.

Ike coughed from the doorway, shuffling awkwardly.

‘Ike,’ Craig whispered. He stuck the list back to the fridge. He watched Ike taste the air. ‘Did it hurt?'

‘What?’

Craig met him at the doorway. He could still the bright eyed teenager behind the icy scowl. ‘What was it like? I need to know.'

Ike scuffed his foot against the door frame. ‘Like my blood was boiling me alive’.

‘Did-did you ever see Tweek?’

Ike shook his head solemnly. ‘No. If they’re important to us, Cartman keeps them close’. The teenager pulled a small plastic water pistol from his waistband, pointing it like a stereotypical villain. ‘We got ambushed trying to save some blood bag,’ he explained, chucking the gun high.

Craig caught the pistol easily.

‘Turned out to be Kenny’s sister. Cartman got ballsy, made a game out of it’.

Craig slid the water pistol into his back pocket, pulling his hoodie low to mask the bulge.

‘Long story short. I got bit saving Kyle’s stupid arse,’ Ike sniffled loudly. ‘We haven’t seen Kenny since. Stan and Kyle are always looking for him when they can’. He nodded to Craig’s jeans. ‘They’ll give you a gun after the meet. That’ll do for now. Keep the satchel with you.’

‘Right. Thanks. Did anyone else get hurt back then?’

Ike shrugged. ‘Stan got a cracked rib. He’s been a little weird since. But Kenny got the fat arse off him before he could _eat_...but it was a close call.’

Craig nodded, taking in the story. He knew Kenny was a scrapper, never afraid to scuff his knuckles if it meant keeping his friends and family safe. Tweek on the other hand could be verbally authoritative, a wild card if backed in a corner, but he wasn’t a brawler at heart.

‘They’re okay you know,’ Ike said, gesturing around the cluttered kitchen. ‘Wendy’s the best sniper we have. Stan helped her come up with juniper infused bullets. And water pistols if we’re short. But you get the picture...oops.’

Ike flickered from the doorway. Kyle appeared moments later, eyes wide and frantic.

‘Craig. We’ve found Kenny!’

Craig pulled his hood over his greasy bed hair. ‘Yeah? You were looking for him or something.’

‘I mean. Token found him-'

Craig barged through Kyle, knocking him backwards. Wendy whipped round, armed to the teeth, neon Hello Kitty goggles flashing. Heidi and Bebe dashed around behind her snatching up stakes and nets.

‘Tucker,’ Wendy snapped, poking him hard in the stomach. ‘We got an emergency call from Token. You need to suit up and get your arse in gear.’

‘Excuse me?’ Craig and Kyle said in unison.

‘You heard me!’ Wendy barked shoving a bulletproof vest at Craig. ‘We’ve found a blood bank. So we’re moving out now. Kyle and Stan are staying here. You’re with me.’

‘The fuck is a blood bank?’ he called after the girls.

Stan walked over from helping Kyle into a chair. ‘It’s where they keep us alive to feed.’

* * *

‘I think my balls are in my stomach!’ Craig shouted as the Jeep Wrangler jumped a speed bump.

Bebe whooped louder, swinging dangerously from the open roll cage on the back. She screamed bloody murder as the team tore through South Park.

Civilians milled around the streets in small packs, weapons at the ready. Craig could have sworn he even saw a lady food shopping with a pram wrapped in barbed wire.

Heidi accelerated, screeching onto a main row of houses. Wendy cursed from the open window, rifle cocked and steady. They were approaching Cartman's house and quick.

‘The Church is still secure, Wendy. We’ve got around ten before he sends thralls.’ Craig clung on to his seat for dear life. Bebe continued shouting over his head. ‘Token’s got eyes on three inside. No. Make that four!’.

Craig was quietly grateful he hadn’t been given an earpiece.

The Wrangler skidded to a halt smashing against Butters house, the front windows exploded outwards and the trio leapt into action. Craig scrambled from the vehicle, ducking pathetically in the grass. Glass rained down upon him as Heidi made short work of the upstairs windows; Bebe booted the front door in and methodically swept the hallway for Wendy behind her.

‘Get your bitch arse up,’ Heidi growled, charging into the house. ‘Token's upstairs! They’re pinned up there.’

Craig didn’t understand the terminology, still very dazed and impressed by the women. At hearing his friend was inside, in danger, Craig pulled the satchel tight around his chest and levelled the water pistol.

‘Suns up. Guns out!’ he cried charging recklessly into the house, like an online shooter.

‘Clear!’ Wendy shouted running from the kitchen.

Bebe crept upstairs scouting, Wendy now at her back. Heidi fell into formation with Craig at the rear. He felt like a giant idiot in all senses.

‘Hello Kitty! In here-oof!.’ The voice cut off in a grunt.

The shooters circled back to the master bedroom, Wendy and Heidi swarming in as Heidi kicked the door in. Craig ambled in afterwards, water pistol waving.

‘Black Panther!’ cried Wendy pulling Token behind her. ‘You said four bodies. I count only you.’

Craig took Token in then, garbed in leather and silver studded adornments. He would have laughed at any other time.

‘They're in the en-suite. They’ve got C- _Craig_ you son of a bitch!’ Token pulled Craig into a quick hug, patting him like a dog. ‘Of all the times to come back.’

‘Catch up later,’ Wendy hissed taking control once again. Within moments the en-suite door was wrenched open, guns trained. Token crouched at the rear with a stake in each fist. ‘Don’t touch anyone that gets out.’

A skeletal man leapt at the group, bony elbows swinging. Wendy slammed the butt of her rifle into the mans head and tossed him aside. The man fell into a heap, hands bound as if in prayer.

‘Come out or we come in!’ Bebe shouted practically vibrating with energy.

‘Holyshit’ Craig breathed.

Clyde crawled away from Heidi’s boot, nose broken and left eye swollen shut.

Token pulled Craig to his feet, pulling at the skin around his open eye, fingers skating over his throat.

‘Clear!’ Token shouted. ‘Two biters left’.

Clyde leaned heavily against Token, mutely drinking in Craig and his scowl.

‘Good to see you to,’ Craig whispered with a secret smile. Clyde closed his eye and allowed Token to hoist him over a shoulder.

‘If we get out of this alive. I’m kicking your arse, Tucker.’

‘Missed you more, Token.’

A tall figure swamped in a ratty purple cloak exited the en-suite, a smaller body pressed tight to their side.

Mysterion glowered behind the domino mask.

‘Hands up freak,’ Heidi demanded. A child’s tear streaked face peeked around the cloak, bloodied lips quivering. ‘Biter.’

‘Give up the vampire, Mysterion. We can’t save everyone.’

The swish of a cloak filled the air. Before Craig could even level his water pistol his friends were scattered, picking themselves up. Only Craig and Token remained on their feet.

Mysterion's cloak swaddled Karen McCormick, snug around her lower jaw.

Mysterion snapped the rifle over his knee. ‘This was my infiltration mission, you bastards.’ Gloves squeaked around the broken barrel. ‘Take the blood-bag and go. The vampire stays with me.’

Token trembled, Clyde’s teeth clacking in time.

‘Leave now and I won’t break anymore of your toys.’

The blood-bag mewled weakly, fingers scratching at a scarred eye.

Mysterion wasn’t finished. ‘I came here to _rescue_ these two. And you idiots nearly sabotaged everything. You’ll have to kill me if you think you’re hurting her.’

Craig lowered his weapon.

Wendy got to her feet, spitting fury. ‘What did you do to Clyde?’

‘Knocked some sense into him’. Mysterion ushered the child towards the door. ‘When we kill the leader, the vampires will revert. Simple. Any enthralled just need a good knock on the head.’

‘He wasn’t _enthralled_ ,’ snapped Wendy pointing at Clyde.

‘True. But he got in my way. Leo over there needs a kn-'

Mysterion lurched sideways with a strangled cry. Karen flew towards, shoved, tripping on the bundled cape. Craig dove forwards catching the child in his arms. She was younger than Ike, face soft and open. The young vampire cried behind the fabric, blood beading on her lashes.

Chaos engulfed the room. Heidi, Token with Clyde like a sack of potatoes, and Bebe fled into the hallway. Bebe dropped to a knee, weapon poised in the doorway.

Butters, devastatingly thin and yellowing, turned his fury on Wendy. He kicked his bare feet and swung his bound hands, screaming like a banshee. Mysterion pushed Wendy away from the blows, accepting Butters rage. His nose crunched loudly behind the mask, he spat blood and met the second punch.

Time crawled as the caped crusader absorbed the weakening strikes.

Wendy cradled her broken weapon like a child.

Butters fell still, his hands bloody and chest heavy. His lungs rattled. He sobbed uncontrollably.

Mysterion coughed a tooth onto the carpet, never turning away from Butters. Karen cried harder, hiding deeper in the fabric.

‘Leo,’ Mysterion croaked, voice like steel. ‘I need you to go with Wendy.’

‘Fuck you, Kenny!’ Butters sobbed beating his fists on Mysterion’s chest. ‘Should have let me die.’

Mysterion backhanded Butters. He easily caught the broken man.

‘He'll have a headache but he’ll live. Get him to Kyle. Keep his interactions with Ike and Karen minimal. He’s traumatised. But he'll get through this'.

Nodding stiffly, Wendy slung the unconscious Butters over her shoulder and left. Mysterion brokered no argument.

‘Craig,’ Mysterion coughed wetly. ‘I wanted to keep them safe with me. But these are the cards I’m dealt.’

Craig offered Karen to Mysterion like a sacrifice but the caped crusader shook his head.

‘Karen. You must go with Craig instead. He looks meaner than he is. Uncle Kyle will look after you. I promise no one will hurt you again'.

‘I’m not taking her.'

Mysterion chuckled darkly, flicking the cowl from his face. Violet eyes blinked to pale blue.

‘You will if you want me to keep Cartman at bay.’

Craig spluttered.

Mysterion pulled back a hood and shook golden locks free.

‘Tell Kyle to follow the rats. They find me everytime,’ Kenny smiled whimsically. ‘And go knock some sense into Stan already.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenny; 'I'm the giant rat that makes all of the rules'.


End file.
